


The Portrait of Severus Snape

by Xochiquetzl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Compliant, Gen, J.K. Rowling Interview Compliant, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochiquetzl/pseuds/Xochiquetzl
Summary: Harry commissions a portrait of Snape to hang in the Headmistress' office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Geminia905 for the beta.

Harry stepped closer to McGonagall as the portrait was installed. He glanced around the Headmistress’ office. Surprisingly little had changed from when this was Dumbledore’s office; the most notable change was the large portrait of Dumbledore over the desk. The delicate silver instruments still lay on tables, and the headmaster’s desk was unchanged. There was a faint ticking and jingling from the silver instruments, and soft breathing from the various portraits on the walls. The room smelled faintly of dust, varnish, and old parchment.

Harry fidgeted a little, and Professor McGonagall smiled at him.

“You’re doing a good thing, Harry,” Dumbledore’s portrait said.

“Afficio,” the installer said. He was a tiny white-haired man in a dark robe, skinny and about six inches shorter than Harry. “That should do it.” He stepped back.

“Thank you,” Professor McGonagall said.

The installer nodded to McGonagall and left, the sound of his footsteps growing quieter as he walked down the stairs.

Inside the portrait, Severus Snape looked around. Harry thought it was probably the first time he’d been happy to see Snape in his entire life. It was an excellent likeness: sallow, hook-nosed, greasy-haired, and dressed in black from head to toe. The artist had offered to make him more handsome, but Harry didn’t think he’d have liked that.

Snape appeared to note Dumbledore’s portrait and Harry’s presence before saying, “It’s about time. I thought these portraits appeared here automatically.”

“Alas,” the portrait of Dumbledore said, stepping forward, “your portrait didn’t. You were, ahem. Considered sacked.”

“That,” the portrait of Snape said, “is bollocks.” Harry fought back a grin; that was almost exactly what Harry had said when he’d heard.

Dumbledore smiled and stepped closer. “Mr. Potter agrees with you, and chose to commission a portrait at his own expense. Minerva graciously offered wall space.”

“It didn’t seem right, not having you here,” McGonagall said. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but otherwise showed no emotion.

 _Good,_ Harry thought. He didn’t think Snape would accept generosity from him without backup from people he liked and trusted. He watched Snape’s portrait for signs of resistance. His eyes were wary, if anything.

Dumbledore stepped forward into Snape’s portrait frame, his hand reaching towards Snape. "I'm so pleased to see you here, my dear boy."

Snape pulled away and crossed his arms. “If you hug me, I’ll Avada Kedavra you again.”

Harry blinked. Dumbledore stopped a short distance away from Snape, a fond smile on his face. Perhaps this was normal interaction for the two of them.

McGonagall shifted her weight, then leaned against the desk, looking down. Her robes rustled. “Severus, I feel the need to apologize to you for being so unpleasant your last year here. I should never have doubted you.”

Snape was also looking at the floor. "It was my intent that you should doubt me."

McGonagall bit her lip. “Still.”

Snape didn’t look up. His expression was a blank mask. “No apology is necessary.”

There was an awkward silence.

Harry decided to fill it. "There's going to be a museum. A wizarding war museum. I'd like for your portrait to hang there as well, Professor Snape."

Snape looked up and blinked. "I... would like that, Mr. Potter.”

There was another awkward silence.

Snape’s dark eyes bored into him, eerily like Snape when he was alive. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I was under the impression that you didn't like me."

Harry’s cheeks felt warm. "That was before I saw your memories, sir."

"Ah." Snape looked away. After a moment, Snape let out a soft breath and said, "May I… offer a suggestion?"

"Of course," Harry said.

Snape looked like what he was saying was an effort. "Charity Burbage. You should honor her in your museum. She was very brave to publish that article in the Daily Prophet..."

McGonagall moved closer to the portrait. "Do you know what happened to her, Severus? We never found her. Or... her body.”

Snape lowered his eyes, but his face was otherwise expressionless. "She was tortured and murdered by the Dark Lord. In front of all of us. Including Draco." His voice was steady, but barely above a whisper. "He fed the body to Nagini."

McGonagall closed her eyes and winced. "I'm very sorry for your loss. I know the two of you were...” There was a pause, during which Harry wondered if he was missing staff room gossip. “...spent a lot of time together.”

"I think the word you’re looking for is ‘friends.’"

“Of course, Severus,” McGonagall said, her voice reassuring.

Snape made a face, like he didn’t think McGonagall believed him about the friends bit and he was annoyed by that. He started to open his mouth to say something.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Professor,” Harry said.

Whatever Snape had been about to say, that forestalled it. “Thank you.”

Dumbledore moved closer and laid a hand on Snape's shoulder. The fingers weren’t black or withered, much to Harry’s relief.

Snape shrugged the hand off, then turned back to Harry. “You should tell the artist to include some of those muggle board games she loved in her portrait. Scrabble was her favorite.”

McGonagall smiled, her breath huffing out in an almost-laugh. “Is that the one with the little squares with letters on them? I remember the two of you playing it in the staff room.”

Snape almost smiled. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Harry asked, “Would you like her portrait to hang next to yours?”

Snape’s expression closed again. “You should ask Charity and follow her wishes. I don’t know if she’s still angry with me.”

“Angry?” McGonagall said. “She wasn’t angry with you. I think she was the last person here to believe you were on our side. She always defended you. She was sure you had a reason for… for Dumbledore.”

“I meant because I was unable to save her.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, but his face was an expressionless mask.

“I’m sure she isn’t angry,” McGonagall said. Her hands twitched by her sides, like she wanted to reach out to Snape. “She was very fond of you.”

Snape crossed his arms and looked away. “You should ask Charity and let her decide.”

“I will, sir,” Harry said.

“I’m so very sorry, Severus,” Dumbledore said, stepping closer to Snape. “That must have been... So very, very sorry.”

“We both knew what you were asking me to do.” His voice was cold rather than reassuring, and he didn’t turn his head to look at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s hands twitched, much like McGonagall’s had. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t want me to hug you?”

Snape kept his head turned away. “Absolutely. I'm still angry that you selected me for the dubious honor of killing you."

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes sad. "You did a sick and dying old man a kindness, and I'm very grateful."

Severus curled his lip.

"I'm very proud of you, Severus. You succeeded brilliantly."

Snape turned his back on McGonagall and Harry, the canvas showing a narrow expanse of black hair and black robes. Harry had never thought of Snape as thin before, but he supposed he was. He had a presence that made him seem larger than he was.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now,” Snape said.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. He stepped back.

There was another awkward silence.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Harry said. “For saving my life so many times.”

Snape didn’t turn around. “At the risk of sounding churlish,” he said, his voice dark, “I didn’t do it for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “I benefited, so I should thank you.”

Snape turned back around and stared at Harry. He tilted his head. After a long pause, he said, “I cannot fault your logic, so I suppose I must say you’re welcome.”

Harry smiled.

* * *

The Portrait of Severus Snape was relieved to be hung in the Wizarding War museum next to the portrait of Charity Burbage—at her request. “Of course I want my portrait next to yours, you ridiculous man!”

Severus gave her a dark glare—he was _not_ ridiculous--but she only grinned at him.

Lily stepped forward, out of her own frame and into Severus’.

Lily. _Lily._ Severus shuddered, closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

She moved closer and hugged him, burying his face in a cloud of red hair. He didn’t know whether to be appalled or delighted. He froze, hands raised awkwardly. She smelled of soap and strawberry-scented shampoo. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything you did for Harry. I’m so proud of you; I heard you were really heroic. I always knew you had it in you.”

Neither appalled nor delighted. Relieved. He relaxed into the hug and closed his eyes, and whispered, “You’re welcome.”

She released the hug and stepped back, closer to her husband. Ugh. Severus looked at the floor, realized he was fidgeting like an awkward teenager, and forced himself to hold still.

Alastor Moody’s portrait muttered loudly, “You can stay on that side of the room, murderer.” He crossed his arms and glowered, his grizzled hair sticking out in all directions.

Of course. It had been too good to last.

“Please don’t, Professor Moody,” Harry started. He stepped towards Moody’s portrait. The sound of his feet echoed a little in the empty museum.

Potter was going to defend him? That was unexpected.

Dumbledore raised a hand, his gray sleeve swinging slightly. “Severus killed me at my request. I was dying anyway, and better a quick end at the hands of a friend than what would have happened if I’d been captured. Besides, it gained him Lord Voldemort’s absolute trust.”

Moody raised his eyebrows, but didn’t argue. He didn’t uncross his arms, but he didn’t argue.

Well, Severus felt like arguing. “You make it sound so simple, so bloodless. What’s a little mercy killing among friends?”

“Excuse me,” the portrait of Black said, stepping forward. Of course the bloody mutt was here as well. “Are you really whinging about how much you suffered, killing Albus?”

 _Whinging?_ Severus clenched his fists and wondered if he could still perform hexes as a portrait. Well, there was no time like the present to find out. He reached for his wand.

“Sirius, please don’t,” Dumbledore said.

Albus was going to defend him, too? Really?

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Not enough, at least.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Severus said, his voice barely above a whisper, “was not only my friend, but also knew things I would never discuss with anyone else. He’s also a ruthless, manipulative bastard, but what are a few minor character flaws among friends?” He laughed mirthlessly. “But fine, let’s examine precisely what he was asking me to do, shall we? First of all, and most self-interestedly, Albus was my character witness. This means that, should I have survived the war, I would probably have ended up in Azkaban.” He started to pace inside his frame. “But let’s forget all those trite academic concerns, shall we? I never expected to survive, anyway. Let’s move on to what my year was like without him.”

He moved into Dumbledore’s frame. Dumbledore didn’t back away. Say what you will about Albus—and Severus supposed he just had—but Albus Dumbledore was no coward.

His voice dropped softer still. “Albus was the best friend I had alive at the time, and not only did he die, but I had to be the one to do it. I also couldn’t explain why without breaking my cover, so all of my colleagues in the Order hated me for it. It might surprise you to know that I’m fond of Minerva and Filius, but I am. The last person who believed that I wasn’t a monster was murdered in front of me and fed to a snake and I couldn’t do anything without breaking my cover.”

He’d had to go back to being the hated, friendless outsider after he’d experienced some measure of respect and friendliness. To throw it all away. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but he also hadn’t expected it to hurt so much, after telling himself he didn’t want or need it his entire life.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Charity said, moving into Dumbledore’s frame and laying a hand on his back.

Severus flinched. “Please don’t apologize to me for dying, Charity.” He glared at Dumbledore again. “I missed you, but I’m still angry with you. And I couldn’t even mourn you without breaking my cover!”

“Are you absolutely certain you wouldn’t like a hug?” Dumbledore asked.

Severus stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then made a rude gesture. Directly in Albus’ face.

Albus smiled, one of his fond, indulgent, twinkly smiles. Irritating man. “I hoped that you would survive and live a long life as a free man, but one can’t really predict these things in a war.”

“So I was just a pawn to you.”

“Hardly,” Albus said. “You were my secret weapon. You were my confidante, ally, and friend.”

“I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies!” Severus spat.

“You saw precisely how I treated my enemies, because I sent you after them.”

There was a long, shocked silence, and then Severus stormed out of his portrait and vanished.

* * *

_Well,_ Harry thought, _that went well,_ as Snape stalked out of the portrait and vanished, robes swishing dramatically after him.

“Where did he go?” Harry’s Mum asked. She bit her lip and crossed her arms.

“The Hogwarts Headmistress’ office,” Dumbledore said. His voice was gentle and his eyes were kind.

Mum looked over her shoulder at the empty portrait frame. “Will he be back?”

“Most likely,” Dumbledore said. “Give him a moment to compose himself. If he’s not back in a reasonable amount of time I’ll go talk to him.” He looked around at the other portraits. “I must ask all of you not to instigate conflicts with Severus. As he just pointed out, he’s had a difficult year.”

The other portraits had expressions ranging from sympathetic to mutinous, but no one argued.

* * *

Severus scowled down at Minerva, who was deeply involved with a long piece of parchment unrolled on her desk. The only sounds were the ticking and jingling of the silver instruments and the scratch of her quill on the parchment. “I don’t suppose you could store my portrait in a broom cupboard or something like that?”

Minerva looked up quickly from her paperwork, eyes wide. “What happened?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to even tell her, but.... “I lost my temper at Albus in front of witnesses.”

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Minerva said, smiling reassuringly.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Severus said. “I regret my rant in front of my childhood enemies. I feel a bit… exposed.”

“Ah,” Minerva said. There was a brief pause, then she added, “But they can’t come here.”

“No, but if I stay gone long enough Albus will come looking for me, and I’m very annoyed with him.”

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Minerva said. “But I need your experience and expertise here.”

Severus blinked and considered this for a moment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Minerva.”

Minerva laughed out loud. He was terribly proud of himself.

“Your place is here with us,” Phineas Nigellus said. “I’m so proud of you. My Slytherin brother! You were brilliant, under the worst possible conditions.” He turned to Minerva. “Put Albus in the broom cupboard.”

Minerva smiled. “I’m afraid not, Phineas.”

Phineas looked disappointed. Severus made a mental note to do something special for Phineas, for standing up for him.

Albus appeared in his portrait, calm yet earnest. Already?

“That was quicker than I expected,” Severus said.

Minerva made a show of looking down at her parchment, but her quill was still. Well. It was the thought that counted, Severus supposed.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Albus said. He stepped into Severus’ frame. “I thought it was important that you know that I didn’t abandon you to Azkaban. I had memories in Gringott’s, clearing you, and instructions that they should be used in your trial if you were arrested.”

“You didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought doing so might compromise your cover.” He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.

Severus sighed heavily. When cataloging Albus’ faults for an audience, he’d forgotten “secretive.” In the future, he would need to be more thorough.

“Besides,” Albus said, “I’m sure that if they examined your memories they’d see that you were innocent.”

Severus shuddered. The idea of a hostile audience viewing his most private thoughts was horrifying. “I might prefer to go to Azkaban.” He had a sudden thought. “Besides, they’d know that I was a good enough Occlumens to fool the Dark Lord.”

“Yes,” Albus said, looking away and shuffling his feet. “Well. That’s a fair point, I admit.”

Of course it was.

“But combined with my stored memories I think it would be enough. But, as I said, there was never any guarantee that any of us would survive. I did so hope that you would, though. You were certainly good enough.”

Yes, he was. Severus started to pace. “My cover survived me. So irritating. I had a fantasy of spitting on the Dark Lord’s corpse and making rude gestures.”

Albus laughed out loud, blue eyes twinkling through half-moon spectacles. “I do so wish I could have made that happen for you.”

“So do I,” Severus said. “Perhaps for my birthday you could hire a cartoonist to depict me pissing on his grave or something.”

Albus smiled. “Perhaps. In the meantime, you should return to the museum with me. Lily wants to hug you again, and Sirius would like to apologize. Act surprised. And accept his apology, if you can bring yourself to do so. We all have many years ahead of us.”

“Black? Apologize to me? I don’t believe you,” Severus said, and walked back over to his portrait in the museum. Albus followed.

Lily stepped forward and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry you had such a hard time.”

Severus sighed heavily and leaned his head on Lily’s shoulder. She still smelled like soap and strawberry shampoo, which made him smile. She’d liked the smell of strawberries as a child, too.

Lily released Severus and stepped back, and Charity hugged him. Her wavy greying blond hair tickled his nose. Charity was soft and smelled of lavender, and he hugged her back without embarrassment.

Contrary to what Minerva had apparently thought, they hadn’t been lovers. Severus didn’t know why everyone seemed to assume that a man and a woman couldn’t be friends. So irritating, to suffer people’s prurient speculation.

Charity released him. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, which made her smile.

Sirius stepped forward, stiff and awkward. “I owe you an apology. You weren’t whinging, and if you had been you would have had good reason.”

“I accept your apology,” Severus said, equally stiff and awkward. He remembered Albus’ instruction to act surprised. It wasn’t an effort.

Sirius nodded solemnly. Lily beamed at them. Albus twinkled benevolently. Severus felt resoundingly manipulated. He supposed that was nothing new.

Lupin wandered closer, looking diffident. “I wish that we had known so we could support you, although I do understand that would have caused issues for your cover if any of us were captured.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I suppose that’s why you never stayed for dinner. Didn’t want to get attached to any of us if we were going to turn on you later.”

Remus Lupin was disturbingly perceptive. Severus considered what responses he could give that weren’t excessively revealing, but acknowledged the statement, and finally settled for, “You’re very clever.”

Lupin smiled. “I was a spy, too, you know.”

Yes. Severus supposed he was.

James Potter stepped forward, his hair still a mess, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “We, erm. Had our issues, but... Thank you so much for looking after Harry.”

Severus stared. No one had told him the afterlife, such as it was, would be so surreal. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to the religious instruction he’d ignored in his childhood. He considered pointing out that he hadn’t done it for James, either, but then James might make the same point as Harry and he might have to say _you’re welcome_ again. Well. He could refuse outright, but....

“It’s all right,” James said, taking a step back. “You don’t owe me anything, including acknowledgement. I just... wanted to say it.”

Severus, for the first time in his afterlife, was speechless.

* * *

Harry led Ginny and his son James into the Wizarding War museum. Ginny was carrying baby Lily, and he was carrying two year old Albus. Two dark-haired boys and a red-haired girl. It was a few minutes before opening, so their steps echoed in the open space.

The Wizarding War Museum had a very large canvas in the entryway. The portrait depicted a long, dark wooden table around which two witches and a wizard played a game with little square tiles with letters on them, while other wizards watched, bemused.

“That,” the portrait of Severus Snape said, “is not a word.”

“Porfilius,” the portrait of Charity Burbage said. “It’s a muggle word. It means ‘attracting affection.’”

The portrait of Harry’s Mum laughed out loud.

Harry grinned. He glanced over at Ginny, who had a surprised smile spreading across her own face.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Snape said. “I should have warned you that Charity cheats outrageously.”

“I’m not cheating!” Professor Burbage said. “It’s a muggle word! Look it up!”

“You’re playing a half-blood and a muggle-born,” Severus said. “You’re not going to fool us.”

“Oh, all right,” Professor Burbage said, and picked the tiles back up. “It was worth a try.”

Harry felt like his face might split in two from smiling. This was better than he had expected. He glanced up at Sirius, who winked at him and then went back to watching the game with a bemused smile.

Snape laid down a series of tiles. “Wormwood.”

“Excellent,” Professor Burbage said, and made notes on a piece of paper.

Snape glanced at the piece of paper and smirked.

“I think I’ll turn Severus’ ‘pall’ into ‘appalled,’” Mum said.

“Very good,” Professor Burbage said, and wrote some more. Then she laid down some of her own tiles. “Pus.” She noted her own score on the bit of paper.

Snape took the last tiles and the corner of his mouth turned up. He laid them all out on the board. “Oppopanax.” He looked inordinately pleased with himself.

“That’s not a word!” Professor Burbage said.

If Snape was offended by the accusation of cheating, he didn’t show it. “It’s a potion ingredient.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Mum said.

“You’re just backing him up because you’re friends,” Professor Burbage said.

“As much as it pains me to back up Snape,” James Potter said, “it really is a potion ingredient.”

Harry grinned at his Dad’s portrait. His Dad grinned back.

To Harry’s delight, Sirius confirmed, “It’s an ingredient in belch powder.” Harry decided not to ask why Sirius knew about belch powder. Perhaps it was better not to know.

“Oh, all right,” Professor Burbage said, laughing, and totaled up the score. “Does anyone else have anything?”

Mum shook her head.

“In that case, Severus wins again.” Professor Burbage glanced up at Dad and Sirius. “Shall I deal you two in?”

“Actually,” Harry said, “I was hoping to introduce my children.” His parents moved closer, smiling eagerly. “This is my oldest son, James, and my daughter, Lily.” Harry’s parents held hands and beamed. Snape was moving out of the way and offering Harry’s Dad his chair, so Harry quickly added, “And this is my younger son, Albus Severus.”

Snape sat back down heavily. Professor Dumbledore came edging into the frame as well. He laid a hand on Snape’s shoulder. Snape didn’t shrug it off this time.

“You... _named your child after me_?” Snape asked in a whisper.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “I know that neither of you had children of your own to carry on your names, so I thought….”

Snape looked stunned. Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder. Mum reached over with her other hand and squeezed his arm, and then took his hand. Professor Burbage beamed.

“Thank you,” Snape whispered, so quietly that Harry had to step closer to hear him.

“I’m both touched and flattered,” Dumbledore said. “A truly generous impulse, Harry. Thank you, so much.”

Harry grinned, and little James sat down on the floor and put his toy broom in his mouth.

* * *

Severus eyed his tiles and tried to come up with words he could make with them. Someone cleared his throat. He ignored them.

“Excuse me,” a ferrety little man holding a piece of parchment and a quill said. “I’m Bilius Green from the Daily Prophet. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“The toilets are on your left,” Severus said.

“Erm,” Green said. He was clearly quite dim. “I was wondering if you had an opinion on Rita Skeeter’s latest book.”

“I haven’t heard of it, but based on her previous work I’m sure it’s dreadful.”

“It’s called _Severus Snape: Saint or Scoundrel_.”

“Neither,” Severus said, rearranging his letter tiles.

“What?” Green looked confused. Moron.

“I’m neither a Saint nor a scoundrel. Are we done?”

He sensed rather than saw James, Lily, and Charity shifting uncomfortably next to him but didn’t look at them. That would make him look nervous, and he didn’t want to look nervous. He slowly moved one tile to the middle of the tray.

His companions’ nerves seemed to embolden Green. “Is it true that your muggle father was an alcoholic? Do you think your tragic childhood is the reason you became a Death Eater? You’re a half-blood and come from poverty; how did you convince the elitist Death Eaters to accept you? Was your muggle father violent? Are you ashamed of him?”

Severus sighed heavily. “You seem quite interested in my father.”

Green stepped forward, eager. “What do you think he’d say if he were here right now?”

Severus couldn’t possibly resist an opening like that. He deliberately adopted his father’s accent and said, “Piss off, ya great hairy cunt!”

Green boggled at him. James let out a poorly-suppressed snort of laughter.

Severus smiled his nastiest smile and said, “That’s what he’d say. He said that sort of thing to everyone.”

Green opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“He did,” Lily said. “He was quite terrifying, really. We avoided Sev’s house.”

“If you don’t mind,” Severus said, “you’re interrupting our game. Perhaps you should interview someone else.”

Green attempted to rally. “What do you say to people who say you deserved an Order of Merlin?”

“I was robbed.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Severus stared down at Green, baleful and silent. Green stared back, quill at the ready.

There was a long pause while they stared at each other.

Green couldn’t be serious. Did he really think that _he_ could break Severus where the Dark Lord himself had failed?

Severus was a world-class master at the down-stare. Finally, Green looked away and mumbled, “Got to go. Deadlines. You know,” and shuffled away.

Severus smirked.


End file.
